


Because I can't write angst and Arthur is denying himself.

by IsabelleJones



Category: Merlin (TV), Merthur - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Breakup, M/M, Male/Male, Merthur - Freeform, Modern AU, Smut, arthur is a liar, non-magic au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2017-12-11 15:51:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsabelleJones/pseuds/IsabelleJones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Arthur lies and tells Merlin he doesn't care, even though he does. Even though all Arthur wants is to fit their mouths together and make a mess of each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not proof-read, sorry :( Just practicing my angst, I'm terrible at angst. Actually no, I'm just terrible full-stop.

 

“This, this was nothing Merlin. I just, it was convenient. I had just broken up with Sofia and you were so, so eager.” Arthur says even though it hadn’t been like that at all. Arthur had broken up with Sofia but Arthur had never cared for her, all he had cared about was the way Merlin lingered too close when they watched movies late into the night and how all he wanted to do was kiss Merlin until he was slick with it. Arthur had wanted for so long, had watched the string of boys creep into Merlin’s room and he couldn’t take it. He could’t take wanting something so close but not being able to have it  and so he had kissed Merlin.  And they had been perfect, they slid and fitted together so easily. Until, reality came crashing down and Arthur had realized, _I can’t._

 

Arthur has always been able to break Merlin effortlessly and Merlin had hated it, hated how easy Arthur made it look, as if he didn’t really care about Merlin at all. Merlin’s eyes harden and he steps away from Arthur, away from the sour scent of whiskey.

“That’s a lie.” Merlin says, unsure because he’s always doubted what he was to Arthur, he had always doubted what they had.

“Really? If I were gay, don’t you think I would be able to get a bigger catch then you?” Arthur asks, cruelly because this is how it has to be done. Merlin’s eyes glaze over and he wants to punch Arthur in the face, he should have, but the world has narrow down to just them. The darkness creeping in and Merlin had never thought Arthur could be this person, the person standing in the darkness and laughing down at Merlin but he is. Merlin leaves.Arthur tries not to runs after him, he succeeds yet it doesn’t feel like a victory at all.

 

They avoid each other, Arthur stays out late and plays footie with his other mates while Merlin goes over to Will’s house. It’s like they don’t live in the same apartment anymore because sometimes the apartment will be left untouched, Arthur staying over at Percival’s, Merlin at Will’s. When they do see each other, they’re cautious and careful like guests and Arthur hates it, he wants to take back what he said. He wants to push Merlin into his bed and suck at the spot where the jaw and the neck meets but he knows he can’t. He can’t be gay, not when he has his life to pay for it.

 

 

Lance had been the one to suggest they go to the new club Camelot, Arthur had nodded, anything to keep him out of the flat, away from Merlin. It was sweaty and loud in the club, the usual and Arthur had let himself into the back alleyways for a smoke only to see Merlin.  Merlin pressed up against the four different kinds of red brick walls, head tipped back, mouth slack as the brunette works his way down Merlin’s neck leaving a trail that glistens and shines. Arthur does leave because if he doesn’t he’ll drag the man away from Merlin, blow punches into him until he can’t stand up properly anymore and then Merlin will know that Arthur still cares, has always cared.

 

And that’s how Merlin forgets, he goes to the club because Morgana was dragging Will there and Merlin just wanted to have fun. He had been there last night and he was there again tonight. He was planning to just drink because yesterday was nothing, yesterday couldn’t compare to the way Arthur had counted his ribs with kisses, yesterday was nothing compared to Arthur. But he was horny and angry and hurt, so hurt. So, when a blonde that looked a lot like Arthur, when Arthur wasn’t trying to be this thing he thought he had to be, started asking for Merlin’s name...He answered. Every time the man smiled, Arthur flashed through his mind, a sliver of gold and pride because Arthur’s lips had curved up exactly so and Merlin liked them like that, had kissed them a million times because he did and so when the stranger did that, Merlin kissed him. He kissed him wet and sloppy because Merlin was only 19 and all he really wanted was to _feel._

“You’re drunk,” The man says pulling away and of course that made it harder because Arthur would have done just that, would’ve steadied Merlin and say ‘No, you don’t want this.’.

“Not drunk enough,” Merlin says and even though it hadn’t been the place or the time, Merlin hugged the stranger. He closed his eyes and pretended the firm muscles underneath that red shirt was Arthur’s and he cried. The man pulled Merlin out, lead him into the back ally-way and sat him on the floor with him.

“You can go back inside,” Merlin sniffles because this wasn’t fair, not to him.

“It’s not my thing, I was dragged here by my friends.” he says and Merlin just nods, closes his eyes and thinks of Arthur.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is just a massive prick, basically. What's new though, right? My angst is shit. Don't laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not proof-read.

And so, Arthur needs to get Merlin back because if Merlin can just forget about Arthur, forget about all the things they’ve been through on the pretense that Arthur didn’t love him--But didn’t Merlin know Arthur at all? Of course he’s lying, of course-- then Arthur would do the same.  Arthur calls Sofia.

 

Arthur is subtle because that’s how his cruelty works, he makes out with Sofia behind the Library and he knows Gwen will see, that she’ll stumble out after Art and see. Gwen does. Arthur empties out the trash and then places the Bracelet Merlin had given him into the empty plastic bag. It takes days for any of this to get to Merlin, mostly because Merlin had taken up to not looking at Arthur, not coming home and all Arthur could do was wait. Wait for Merlin to hurt because having Merlin hate him is much better then this, it’s much better then Merlin pretending Arthur’s not there.

 

Arthur comes home, his sweaty kit stuck onto him and he wipes the sweat from his brows. When he enters the apartment he knows, he knows that Merlin has found the bracelet and that Merlin heard about Sofia. He knows because Merlin is sat by the fire, the t.v off and when he looks up to the door Arthur has just walked through,  his eyes are a startling blue that’s rimmed red. 

 

Arthur stares at Merlin, taken back because Merlin just looks at Arthur. Arthur doesn’t think he’s ever seen this side of Merlin because Merlin had always been; Smiles that stretched lazily across his face; crinkled eyes that turned into slits when he laughs; A shy pink that’s prevalent across his cheekbones and to the tip of his ears. Merlin was all those and so much more (like slick lips that begged to be kissed, a mouth that needed to be suggestively shut-up, etc) but he was never _this_. He was never; Eyes that have gone hollow; lips that are trembling and pulled down by the light dips of gravity; bones that are a bit too sharp, a bit too fragile. 

 

Merlin’s holding Arthur’s bracelets, touching it gently and caressing it like it’s the only thing that matters in this whole fucked up world. Arthur’s heart clenches.

“I can’t believe-”Merlin starts and Arthur can’t, he can’t listen to this because he can already feel his exterior melting like crayons on a canvas. 

“Do you always pick things out of the trash? It’s a filthy habit.” Arthur says and Merlin’s eyes harden, his breathing comes in heavier. This, this Arthur can deal with. Arthur will always be able to deal with an angry Merlin, a Merlin that blabbers because he can’t stop. What Arthur can’t deal with is a hurt Merlin, a Merlin that is silent and allows the emptiness off voices to decay in the air.

“Fuck you, just fuck you!” Merlin grits out, jumping up to his feet and before Arthur can say anything, before Arthur can process what’s going on Merlin is pushing him up against the puke green of their door. 

“I thought, I thought you cared. Even after all that talk,” Merlin says, his fingers jabbing into Arthur’s chest. And this is good, this is brilliant because Arthur can feel his anger building and bubbling away. He can feel the hurt disappearing. 

 “Even after Gwen told me she saw you making out with Sofia!”

Merlin stands close, closer then they’ve been in the last few weeks and Arthur doesn’t breath in. He’s afraid to share the same air as Merlin because even that would be too much. 

“But you really don’t care,” Merlin says and he’s got Arthur pressed up against the door, his body slick against Arthur’s. Arthur wants to push Merlin away but there’s something about the way Merlin’s shoulders slump, the way he presses his forehead against Arthur, the body heat unbearable. Merlin licks his lips and stares into Arthur’s eyes, blue latched on blue and it’s too much.

“You don’t care and I’ve been so stupid Arthur,” Merlin whispers, exasperated. Arthur wants to reach out and dig his nails into Merlin’s hips, pull him closer and say _Of course I care, you idiot_ before sliding their tongues together.

“I don’t think-’ Merlin starts and Arthur can’t say anything, he doesn’t trust himself to. There’s silence and it’s stupid, this, because all Arthur wants to do is hug Merlin and say _don’t cry_ but he doesn’t. So, Merlin cries salty tears that leak from his eyes and down his cheek and it takes all Arthur has to not chase the drops with his lips, to not lick away at the liquid. 

“I think, if you say,” Merlin pauses, sucks in a heavy breath. “That you don’t love me I’ll finally get it through my thick skull because I’ve always been a bit of an idiot, haven’t I?” Merlin asks and the way he uses Arthur’s insult on himself makes Arthur grimace, makes Arthur want to kiss him raw.

“If you say that this, all this-” Merlin stares directly into Arthur’s eyes, searching for something, for anything.

 “Was fun then I’ll give up Arthur, I will. I just-”Merlin stops dips his head and presses a kiss to Arthur’s neck. It’s not sexual or anything, he just presses it there and waits while sobbing into Arthur. 

“I just need to know,” He splutters into Arthur’s skin and Arthur can’t move, won’t move because Arthur’s mind flashes back to that time after his footy match. Merlin had met him in the locker rooms and they had fucked in the shower. Arthur had kissed Merlin, reverent as anything and he hadn’t bothered to stop even when the water from the shower had seeped in-between the gaps of their lips to seek refuge in the moist hotness of their mouths. And when Arthur had work deft fingers around Merlin’s cock, Merlin had buried his head into Arthur’s neck just like he was doing now. Merlin had murmured into Arthur’s skin incoherent sentence while they were both slippery and wet, unable to seek purchase on white tiles with the rhythm they had going.

 

Arthur sips in air and glazes his eyes over, he stands straighter and leans into Merlin’s ear. “I don’t love you, Merlin.” Arthur whispers, brushing lips against Merlin’s ear to lick at the earlobe.

“Never have,” He says offhandedly and Merlin inhales a sharp breath before pulling away, eyes empty.

“Of course,” Merlin says, blank. “I’ve always known” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to god, if you guys don't comment I'm going to akdshjalkfjglkajsdlkjg. I mean I appreciate kudo's but I mean, guuuuuys, comments are cooler. I'll give you all invisible elephants too if you comment, promise. You even get to pick whether you want a blue elephant or a pink one or whatever, JUST COMMENT.


	3. Cue Mordred

Arthur’s skin is gold limned with something sweet and Merlin remembers the way it tastes, the way it feels when he skitters a wet pink across it. Merlin remembers when all he wants to do is forget. Merlin’s had a little too much to drink last night and so when he walks into art class, it doesn’t help that his substitute Art teacher says sarcastically in a loud voice ‘Well, thank you for gracing us with your presence.’. Merlins frowns, creases his eyebrows up and stuffs his hands in the pocket of his hoody. 

“Sorry,” He mummbles, halfheartedly ‘ I was-’

“Looks like you’re starting a trend,” The teacher, Mr. Red, cuts across. Merlin looks to the door to see a mop of brunette and blue, blue eyes. It’s a bit like looking in the mirror. The boy has his hands hidden in his hoody as well and he watches Merlin with eyes that search a bit too deep. Merlin looks away. 

“Partners,” Mr. Red says, disinterested while he passes them a sheet of paper with instructions. “The both of you and don’t even think of handing in bollocks. It’s 25% of your grade.”

 

 

Mordred has always been a little more then interested in Merlin, the sidekick to the hero. He’s watched Merlin follow Arthur around campus, eyes impossibly bright and smile, if he’s honest, a little dazzling. Mordred sits on Merlin’s bed, finishes the brainstorm for their project and slants a curious look at Merlin.

“What?” Merlin asks, lips curving into a small smile. Mordred thinks that Merlin looks sad and a little lost. He thinks that Merlin doesn’t suit red rimmed eyes.

“Here, I’ve got something.” Mordred announces, before he digs through his bag and procures a spliff. Merlin looks at him dubiously and his eyes widen. 

“Oh my god,” Merlin says, voice a hushed hiss. “Did you bring weed?! Do you carry that around? We could’ve gotten arrested.”

Mordred laughs, eyes glistening and Merlin glares at him, slightly put out. He scrabbles for the joint but Mordred pulls it just out of reach.

“We’ll flush it, that way there’s no evidence.” Merlin says and he makes grabby hands at the joint but Mordred shakes his head. Merlin looks worn out. His hair is a mess, strands sticking out in all different directions. He’s 21 and yet Mordred thinks, he’s never seen someone look so tired.

“It’ll help you forget,” Mordred says, breath soft. “Whatever it is that’s keeping you up.”

Merlin stops, glances up at Mordred with soft features and Mordred wants to run his fingers along the sharpness of Merlin’s cheekbones, to part Merlin’s lips with his thumb. After a moment of silence that melts into something a little more comfortable, Mordred lights up the joint.

“Here,” Mordred says and he holds the spliff to Merlin’s lips while Merlin hesitantly stares at it and then at Mordred. Mordred thinks there’s nothing prettier then Merlin running a pink tongue over his lower lip to wet it before wrapping his lips around the joint.

“You’re getting it all wet,” Mordred says, a little fondly and Merlin inhales before promptly spluttering everywhere.

“What in the actual fuck,” Merlin coughs, face turning a shade of magenta pink. Mordred laughs, features creasing into something not entirely familiar.  “That’s not even remotely nice,” 

“Here, just inhale twice without exhaling and then hold it in for 7 seconds,” Mordred says, stealing the joint back and slipping it between his lips. He does a demo and then passes it back to Merlin who frowns before following. Merlin holds it in for 5 seconds before the tip of his ears turn a bright pink and he exhales loudly. 

“This doesn’t work,” Merlin says, when he tries again and Mordred smiles. 

“Why don’t you take a couple more hits then?” He asks, smirking and so Merlin does. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is long overdue and complete shit because I did write a better one but then Pages doesn't auto save and omg. I'm mean and horrible and all the words in between for not posting sooner. Just yeah, sorry for how ungreat (I'm not even using proper words now) this chapter is. I don't deserve comments *sniffles*.


	4. Chapter 4

 

Merlin, it turns out, is a complete nutter when he’s stoned. 

“But really! Hermaphrodites need clothes too! I mean,” Merlin says, sucking in another hit. He holds it in, counts on his fingers and glances back up at Mordred with a smile when he reaches 10. “First, we’d have to decide what gender they are. I mean how would their clothes even look like? What would a hermaphrodite sport be? Are they girly? Or boyish or-”

“The joint,” Mordred cuts across, laughing as Merlin gesticulates wildly. Mordred’s never really had friends before, never thought he need the company of someone else but Mordred thinks that Merlin is the exception. Merlin’s eyes blue, impossibly so and his hair is midnight black. Mordred thinks it’s a bit like looking into a mirror and liking what he sees. But it’s also not because Mordred knows, Merlin is the kind of beautiful he’ll never be.

“Oh wait, I feel sick.” Merlin says, abruptly when Mordred gets off Merlin’s bed to find his laptop. “I feel kind of-”

“You’re greening out!” Mordred exclaims, voice laced with laughter. “You’re such a light weight.” 

Merlin pouts and Mordred doesn’t think he looks absolutely adorable with a quivering bottom lip and cheeks stained red. Honestly, he doesn’t. Mordred tugs Merlin out of the bed and they head out to the kitchen. 

“What are you doing?” Merlin asks, voice fuzzy. “There’s nothing to eat. Arthur usually cooks.” He frowns at this, his brain trying to remember something it’s forgotten.

“Call the pizza guy,” Mordred says, “And don’t you dare order that shit with pineapple.” 

Merlin stares at Mordred, mouth agape and eyes sparkling. He’s leaning on his elbows and he’s got a look on his face Mordred wants to kiss off. 

“I can’t believe you don’t like pineapple on pizza! That’s the only appropriate way to eat it.” Merlin says and Mordred shrugs while he thinks to himself, _I’ve always liked things inappropriate._

 

_*   *   *   *_

Arthur doesn’t come back that night, he comes back when the selfish navy blue of the skies has melted themselves into a hushed lilac. He comes back in the morning to an apartment smelling intoxicatingly bitter and a plethora of _absolute shit and when did M become such a pig_ everywhere. He’s drunk from an after footy celebration at Lance’s place with a few birds he couldn’t quite get it on with. Not when every ashy sweep of darkness across pale skin became glimmers of Merlin. He falls asleep as soon as he reaches his bed, the sand man thankfully not giving him enough time to register the fact that Merlin is in the next room. If Arthur had been anywhere near sober though, he would have noticed Merlin’s stilled outlined splayed across the couch with another shadow and a hushed whisper of ‘Arthur’s going to freak, you should go. Catch you tomorrow yeah?’. But Arthur’s not and so he doesn’t. 

 

When he does wake up though, he notices the way the apartment looks like it’s been turned upside down and been caught in a hurricane. He’s tempted to pick things up and slant a lazy smile at Merlin before saying ‘Look Merlin, what I found. A cupboard! For you to put things in.’ because it would be so easy. So, so easy to fall back into that routine of pure bliss. Instead, he opts for scowling at a bleary-eyed Merlin that walks into the kitchen, rubbing sleep away from his eyes. 

 

“I’ll clean up, later.” Merlin says and it startles Arthur, if only for a few seconds because Merlin’s voice sounds ragged and worn. Arthur thinks sourly to himself, _I did that to him._ And then Arthur begins to hate Merlin for making him feel like this, aching and hollow. So, he says, voice casual ‘Good not everyone likes it messy.’ but he knows what he’s really saying. He knows that Merlin’s mind will flash back to -- Sunday Morning, Arthur sipping a kiss from Merlin’s mouth and only tasting toothpaste but carrying on to kiss that away as well. Arthur had picked up all Merlin’s clothes from the floor, slanted an adoring look at Merlin when Merlin sheepishly said _I’m messy, sorry._ Arthur had pressed lips, raw from being kissed too much, against Merlin’s and whispered an incoherent sentence that sounded a lot like _I like you messy_ into enticing pink _.--_ that time. 

 

Merlin’s face is a canvas of un-tailored anger because Merlin’s never been good at hiding what he feels. He never has been and---- _I like you_ Merlin says, eyes down cast and cheeks blazing while Arthur kisses sloppy kisses into his neck. Arthur looks up. Blue eyes meet bluer ones. He says, after slanting his mouth over Merlin’s one last time ‘ No you love me.’ because it’s true. Merlin casts Arthur an embarrassed look and Arthur kisses it away before he says ‘And I love you too,’ because that’s true as well.--- never will be.

 

“Fuck you,” He says, voice sharp and it feels a little like a knife to the heart but also a little like fuel to the fire. Arthur smiles. 

“You can’t anymore,” Arthur says and it’s a lie, what ever this charade is because if this had been last week...Arthur would’ve kissed Merlin silly until their fight had melted away with the heat of skin against skin.

 “I hate you,” Merlin spits, words flames from a fire reaching and licking at material too thin. Arthur cocks his head to the right, curves his lips into an ugly line and says “No, you don’t.” because it’s true. Merlin stills because of course he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t when all he thought about last night when the world was turning kaleidoscope was _arthurarthurarthur_ like a prayer to the Gods.

“No but I wish I could,” Merlin says, tired and it shouldn’t make Arthur’s heart ache but it does anyway because isn’t that all that matters? Not the truth but what Merlin wishes was the truth.  

 

They’re drenched in a sort-of quietness that makes Arthur’s knee jog up and down and Merlin’s skin itch. There’s a skipped heartbeat where Arthur want to say _fuck it all_ and stalk his way over to Merlin before curving an arm around his neck to draw him close. Because who cares about the World and his father and conforming when Merlin wants to be his and his only. Instead, Arthur says, voice a touch less cold but not enough for Merlin to notice  “You always been pathetic like that.’ and then he looks away because he doesn’t want to watch the way Merlin’s features crumble. They do anyway. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I thought I should make it up to you guys with another shitty chapter. It's basically mellow angst in Arthur's POV and completely bad, if I'm honest. It just doesn't feel right BUT WAIT. If you're patient, you will get to see Jealous!Arthur soon and a ever more starstruck!Mordred. And to help ' maryam ' with her grieving period, I'll put Merlin in super sexy skinny jeans and make him oblivious because isn't that just how we love our Merlin? Obliviously sexy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not proof read. It's soppy on Mordred's side and over all, I hated this chapter.

“I don’t know about you,” Merlin hums, headphone in his ear whiles he sketches out a picture. “But I’m feeling 22 and everything will be alright, if you keep me next to youuuuu,”

Mordred takes a seat next to Merlin and decides that even though Merlin probably has the worst taste in music,  he has the best taste in clothes. Merlin’s wearing skinny jeans that are black and cling on a little to surreptitiously to his legs, Mordred can’t look away. 

“Come, smoke up with me.” Mordred offers and it’s only because he wants to see the way Merlin’s ass looks but he’s too much of a gentlemen to ask Merlin to stand up so that ‘ I can check our your arse because my imaginations going wild here’. Merlin tries to school his hair down with his palm before he curls an uncertain smile up at Mordred.

“What if I don’t come down in time?” He asks, already slipping his notebook into his satchel. 

“Half an hour’s more then enough for you to buzz out,” Mordred lies. Merlin smiles, eyes crinkling at the edges but Mordred knows it’s a bit forced and the blue of Merlin’s eyes-- which had been _never forget me_ blue and sparkling sea blue and _take me away_ blue all at once---- has dissolved into a pale sky blue that Mordred isn’t sure he likes. But of course he does because this is Merlin. Mordred makes sure he falls behind for a couple of breaths, lets his eyes glide down the lean shape of Merlin--Mordred decides he hates hoodies because it covers everything Merlin has-- and wants to flip some desks over when he realises Merlin’s satchel is covering his ass. _Fuck._

“Well, come on.” Merlin says, chin grazing a shoulder when he turns to look at Mordred.  “Lead the way.”

Mordred quickens his strides, bumps his shoulder into Merlin’s before leading him the auditorium. 

 

When Merlin’s high, the world spins slower and it feels a bit like closing his eyes but  never wanting to open. In the auditorium all he sees are dim sallow light descending on the stage like moonlight and when he looks to the side to where Mordred’s on his back as well, he sees Mordred with his eyes half-closed, fingers clasped firmly on his tummy. 

“What’s this song then?” Merlin asks, arm stretched out above him while his finger traces the air. Mordred shifts his face to the left, gives Merlin a lopsided smile and it’s something.

“Kicking Myself,” He says, shifting his weight onto his side and propping his head up on a lightly curled fist. “As Tall As Lions.”

“It’s a nice song, makes you feel like your lying on clouds or the night sky.” Merlin says and he look ill under the lights. “Stars. makes you think of stars.” 

Merlin’s mind is occupied --- 

 

 _“_ I can’t believed you drag me up here at 2 in the morning,” Merlin had mumbled, lips chattering against the coldness. Arthur had looked at him, then glanced at the star fill sky and then back at Merlin.

“Thought you needed to see something as beautiful as you,” He murmurs into Merlin’s mouth, slick and hot just for him. Merlin laughs into kiss, lips creasing up.

“You’re so chessy,” He says but he loves it. ----- and so when Mordred moves in closer, he doesn’t notice. 

The silence is nice and Merlin looks at Mordred as a friend, someone he can escape with. So, it feels a bit like a betrayal when Mordred glances into still blue eyes one last time before slicking his mouth over Merlin’s. Merlin’s lips taste of something Mordred’s never tasted before and when Merlin goes languid with the heat of it, it feels a little like heaven. 

“Oh god,” Merlin whispers, pulling away. His eyes are drawn wide like the moon and there are pink smudges painted on impossible cheekbones. “You can’t- What are you?”

Mordred laughs, leans in for another kiss and this time he doesn’t let Merlin break it. 

 

Mordred’s mouth is a little like summer. It’s hot and moist, tastes of scents Merlin can’t quite place and when Mordred deepens the kiss, it feels a little like that cold shower after a blistering day. When they finally do break apart they’re both panting and when Mordred looks at Merlin who’s shyly looking away with pink slicked on pale white, he can’t help but kiss him until he’s drunk on it. 

“Jesus, Mordred.” Merlin _whines_ when he pulls away. “Don’t. I can’t do this.”

“I’m not Pendragon, Merlin.” He says, lips still dangerously close. “ I don’t know what he did but...”

Mordred stops, closes his eyes and then gets up abruptly. He’s so stupid, so stupid because he can see it in Merlin’s eyes, he loves Arthur and Mordred doesn’t think he loves Merlin but there’s something about him. Mordred wants  Merlin in his studio, to spend nights painting with water colors, eating shitty food and getting high. He wants to taste Merlin on his lips all the time and he wants to feel Merlin in his bones. He wants to discover things about Merlin like whether he’s a morning person, whether he drinks his coffee with sugar or if he’ll talk in his sleep and whether he’ll let Mordred kiss him as much as he wants to. Mordred doesn’t like the way Merlin makes him feels; Vulnerable and exposed. He’s never felt like it before and he prefers himself before he met Merlin. He prefers being in control and not feeling like _this._ Fucking butterflies in his stomach when Merlin looks at him. 

 

“Mordred, hey.” Merlin says when Mordred pulls his bag on. “Come on,”

“It’s cool, Merlin.” Mordred says, quiet.  “Pendragon yeah? He’d do a number on me too.”

Merlin crosses the stage, scuffed up shoes clicking against the wood and when he gets to Mordred, he’s cautious. 

“I just,” Merlin starts. “I’m not that great, Mordred. I don’t want to have to go through all this shit again once you find out. “

Blue eyes catches bluer one and then a mouth that is hot and wet in all the right places, slicks itself against another.

“You’re gorgeous Merlin.” Mordred says. “Your so bloody gorgeous and I don’t what Arthur did but he’s stupid.”

 

And it doesn’t matter whether Mordred’s lying or not, to Merlin it sounds like the truth.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Must I warn you that this is badly done and not proof-read? Surely, you lot know by now that all my work is utter bollocks and is in heavy need of someone with a breath english knowledge to edit it into something half-decent.
> 
> I'm sorry for the hellish amount of time it took to upload this and it's not at all because I'm sadistic, more like exams and the fact that my laptop died for about a month basically. And we all know how the IT crowd is like 'Have you tried turning it off and on?' *tehehe* I'm sorry the thought of a guy like Moss fixing my laptop is hillarious. Okay, well I'm sorry again and I want to promise that I'll start writing more frequently but I'm terribly reckless with making promises I can't keep.

*   *   *

Arthur knows something’s different when Merlin strolls into the cafe, earphones tucked snugly into his ears. Merlin’s hooked across his chest a messenger bag and Arthur absolutely loathes it, he always has and he remembers shoving Merlin into the bathroom once to kiss him filthy. He remembers growling ‘Take the damn bag off,’ and fucking Merlin in the bathroom, rough and hard while plastering tiny kisses up the pale of his neck. That night, Arthur had bought Merlin a backpack, Pendragon red and with straps that couldn’t be adjust to hang too low. 

 

He’s sitting on the armchair, legs splayed wide and he’s watching as Merlin orders his Vanilla latte with soy milk  because he’s an absolute girl and Arthur loves him for it. Loved, he had loved Merlin for it. He doesn’t now, he can’t. Lance is sitting with his arm wrapped around Gwen and Gwaine’s got Vivian firmly on his lap. Morgana, she’s watching Arthur, eyes amusingly dark and when Arthur catches her eyes with his own, she twists her lips upwards in an overbearing grin.  When Merlin sits, he jogs his left knee up and down, his eyes land anywhere but at Arthur at when he smiles to say hi...He looks different. Merlin’s cautious not to look at Arthur, his gaze hotly looking at the edge of his cup, at the the table and anywhere but Arthur. Arthur who’s staring intently at Merlin. Come on, MGwen asks Merlin a question and he doesn’t answer. Just stares plainly into nothing, half a lilt to his mouth.

“Merlin!” Gwen says, frowning. Merlin snaps his head to look at her and he frowns as well, eyebrows drawn together.

“Sorry?!” He asks, sparing her one of his beams. Gwen smiles back, unsure. 

“You okay?” She asks and then Merlin nods, a mop of black bobbing up and down. Arthur’s throat tightens.  Gwen’s quiet for a thoughtful moment before she continues. “Are you putting in one of your pieces for that Preshan Writing Competition? I heard it’s big bucks.” 

“No, I’m not-” His phone buzzes and Arthur watches as Merlin fiddles with it before looking towards the door . “My pieces aren’t good enough. Hey, look. I know we were all meant to catch a movie tonight but I’m going to have to pass because.... School work and all.” 

His lips move fast over the words and he’s out of his chair before anyone can respond. Arthur frowns. 

 

 

Mordred’s studio reminds Merlin of the beginning of A Perfect Murder and so he slides a suspicious gaze towards Mordred.

“You aren’t planning to kill me because my husband finds out that you just want all my cash, are you?” Mordred tilts his head to the side, eyes studying Merlin.

“You’ve lost me,” He says, tugging Merlin towards the kitchen by the wrist to make tea. Merlin’s eyes widen almost comically and he grins.

“You haven’t watched A Perfect Murder?” He asks, taking off his bag and hopping on the shaky counter. There’s a mattress lain on the floor, covered in white linen but apart from that, the rich chocolate floor is covered in scattered canvasses and drying paint. The drapes are a dark purple and drawn tightly so that the only light casting rays on his painting are the dimly lit ones hanging above.  

“No but I’m guessing that’s what we’l be doing tonight then?” He asks, nudging Merlin and giving him a small smile. Mordred nudges Merlin’s knees open and takes up the space between there to press his forehead against Merlin’s. He wants to look away from Mordred’s eyes because they’re dark blue and search to deep but then Mordred touches their nose together and breathes out, “Don’t look away,” and Merlin finds he can’t. 

“Do you know the first time I saw you?” Mordred asks and Merlin stills, shakes his head slightly. “You were at the cafe drinking with your mates and it was a bit like looking into a mirror, only you were so much more beautiful. I knew I wanted you then but I never would’ve thought-”

Merlin kisses him, tilts his head to the left and fits his mouth with Mordred’s because Mordred’s words is like warm sun against his skin; lavish gold glimmers. He feels the familiar motion of lips clashing together and he partly expects it to be rough and sloppy like the way it sometimes is with Arthur, when there’s no time for finesse but enough time to sate their need. Mordred is unexpectedly slow and patient with it, almost like he’s taking his time to learn the way Merlin’s mouth curves. And Mordred wants to do that, wants to know memorize the way Merlin’s mouth feels with his, the way it slicks up in honey sweet scents and the way Merlin melts into him when he deepen it. When Mordred pulls away-- and it’s Mordred that pulls away not Merlin because Merlin’s forgotten how good it is to touch and Mordred doesn’t want to take advantage of that, he wants Merlin to want him without the haze of lust-- his eyes are slicked in glazed happiness.  Merlin frowns, unsure and doubtful because that haze of happiness looks terribly familliar. Like Arthur’s eyes whenever they pul apart and if that wasn’t -- Merlin stops himself, Arthur won’t ruin this for him. 

“Come on,” He says, quiet. “We’ll order pizza and watch that movie of yours.”

Merlin thinks quietly, doubt stirring because it’d be his luck wouldn’t it? For Mordred to realize now that maybe Merlin isn’t what he wants and maybe he had been wrong just like Arthur had. Merlin runs fingers through his hair and chews his lower lip while hopping off the bench into the breath of space Mordred’s given him. He’s almost plastered against Mordred and he notices for the first time how Mordred’s just that bit taller. Mordred dips his close into Merlin’s ear.

“Don’t do that,” He says, low and hot. “Don’t doubt yourself like that.”

And then he kisses him again, harder and more urgent like Merlin’s the only thing he’s ever wanted.

 

 

When Arthur gets home at 8 in the evening he expects Merlin to be at the apartment, sprawled across his bed and brainstorming ideas for an essay because Merlin’s a geek. He’s surprised when he isn’t though and Arthur starts to worry because Merlin is known to trip on _air_ but then he’s cautious to remember that Merlin isn’t exactly his worry about. He stays up all night watching reruns of Friends trying to convince himself that he can’t sleep because of the amount of coffee Leon poisoned him with and that this has nothing to do with Merlin. It’s a lie though because in the end, it’s always Merlin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried for complexed and amazing angst but ended up with confusing and non-sensesical rubbish. 
> 
> Not proof-read and for the record, I think this is probably the worst chapter. Especially the failed angsty dirty-talk, things sound so much better in my head then they do on paper.

“Did he stay over at yours?” Arthur asks Gwen. Gwen frowns and lugs all her art stuff in to her bag and shakes her head. They’re sitting at the cafe and Arthur’s watching the door waiting for Merlin to come in and tell some ridiculous story about why he didn’t make it home last night because Arthur doesn’t want to think the worse. Merlin’s always been able to pull boys, maybe not intentionally but he has something about him. Something that makes you want to pull him close to your body and kiss his mouth until it’s spilling with sweet nothings. And Merlin does that well, he arches into your touch and gnaws at your lower lip. He’s messy with his kisses, too much tongue and sometimes too much teeth but Arthur found out that he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care as long as they’ve got their lips mashed together, moving in that  familiar rhythm. Arthur cards fingers through his hair and sighs when he notices it half-nine and he has an econ class to get to. Lance comes in and when he’s greeting Gwen with a kiss, Arthur slips away. He feels shaky, he doesn’t know why and it’s hard to breath, it’s hard to think. He just wants to see Merlin and to know why he didn’t come home last night. It’s when he’s ducking in through the Art building that he sees Merlin or more like feels him. They slam into each other and books fly everywhere. If Arthur wasn’t so strung out by relief he might actually laugh because this is classic Merlin. Always rounding a corner to fast before promptly drowning in a mess of textbooks.

“Oh, Arthur!” He says, a little strangely. He drops to his knees instantaneously to pick up the scattered books but Arthur’s frozen, he’s too busy thinking of ----   ‘Let me fuck your mouth, Merlin’ Arthur says, thumb pulling on his lower lip until Arthur sees the glimmer of white teeth. His other thumb is brushing over a cheekbone sharp enough to cut.  Merlin’s on the bathroom floor of their local pub, jeans picking up the filth from the glossed tiles. His eyes are a glazed blue almost like Arthur’s put him into a trance, almost like he’d do anything Arthur wanted as long as he asked. ‘And when we’re done, I won’t let you clean yourself up. I’ll make you walk around with a mouth that’s messy with my come and you’ll love it, won’t you? You’ll love that everyone will know.”  Arthur says, slipping the thump into the hotness of Merlin’s mouth. Merlin sucks eagerly, his tongue obscenely lapping at the tip of Arthur’s tongue and  he shakes his head, eyes locked on Arthur’s. ------  memories he shouldn’t be recalling. 

When he stands back up he’s shuffling their books to find which is which but Arthur’s not concentrating, he’s too busy looking at a bruised red dipped low into the hollow of Merlin’s collarbone. Merlin shifts uncomfortably and finally hands Arthur back his books, it’s only when Arthur doesn't take them immediately that Merlin notices the narrow slits of blue that’s watching him. Arthur can’t breath, the idea of Merlin, his Merlin---- It happens too quickly for any of them to react, Arthur’s got Merlin pinned against the wall. 

“Who gave that to you?” He asks, ready to kill because Merlin is his. _His._ Merlin’s eyes are wide, round circles colored a vibrant blue and he’s staring at Arthur with his mouth agape. He skitters a tongue nervously across his lip and Arthur wants to follow the trail of wetness with his on tongue. It’s crossing a line, Arthur knows, he knows but he doesn’t care. He dips his head low into Merlin’s neck, licks his way up to Merlin’s ear and bites at the lobe. 

“Is this what you were doing last night?” He asks, quiet. Merlin goes pliant under his attention and if Arthur’s quiet enough, he hears the way Merlin’s heart is stuttering erratically. Arthur mouths at the bruised red, covering it and sucking hard. 

“Did he fuck you nice and good, M?” Arthur asks, voice dangerous. “Did he make you take it? Did he hold you down and fucked you until you begging for it? Does he know how much you liked being made to beg for it? _Please, Arthur. Please, may I suck your cock.”_

Merlin’s eyes are wild when he pushes Arthur away, blue doused in a darkness Arthur’s never seen. The hallway is quiet, almost empty and so when Merlin says, “ Yeah, he fucked me so good Arthur. Until all I could scream was his name and even then he didn’t stop.”, it’s heart-achingly loud. 

 

Merlin’s learnt cruelty from the best and when Arthur steps back, half shocked because there are lines even in the midst of fights that Merlin’s never crossed before--- Their first real fight had been because Arthur was too afraid to tell their friends and Merlin had spent the whole night out with Cedric a boy famous for his wandering hands. When they made up, Arthur had fucked Merlin nice and slow into his mattress and when he’s been buried deep into Merlin, he had dipped his head into the crook of Merlin’s neck and whispered “I was so angry M, I kept thinking about you saying his name over and over and it’s not supposed to be like that. You’re only allowed to say my name.”  And when Merlin had said ‘I could only ever say your name’ Arthur had kissed Merlin, soft and sweet like Merlin was his world because Merlin is his world.--- but Merlin’s crossing them now. Arthur steps back, shaken by the way Merlin’s thrown his own insecurities in his face and he feels a pain in his stomach. 

 

“Who is he?” He asks, quiet and a littles sad. Merlin stops, looks cautiously at Arthur and fights the urge to kiss him, to run fingers through hair gold like Autumn leaves. 

 

“It’s none of your business,” He says instead. Arthur looks up at him and for a moment, Merlin thinks Arthur’s about to apologize but Arthur takes a step back, and then another. It takes Arthur a moment to recompose himself, to school his expression back to impassive. 

 

“You’re right, Merlin.” He says, voice cooling by at least five degrees. “It’s not my business who you whore yourself out to.”

 

We’re too broken to fix anyway, Arthur thinks and then he leaves.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's utter crap for not updating for ages? *raises arm guiltily*
> 
> Honestly though, the comments left on this is the only reason I decided to get off my ass, or rather get back on it, and start writing.
> 
> Bye munchkins.

Part of him is ready to let Arthur leave, to just walk away but Merlin grabs Arthur by the wrist, feels his heartbeat there and stills for a moment. Arthur stills too and for a while all they hear is their heartbeat syncing and their breaths haggardly stabilizing.   
“Do you still care?” Merlin asks, voice a little shaky. “I spend too much time thinking about you, Arthur. You can’t tell me you don’t need me and then pull shit like this when someone else wants me. He wants to kiss me in front of everyone, he’s not afraid to. Tell me why I should give him up for you?”

Arthur walks down the hall way, fast paced and ready to explode and half of him is thinking stupid, stupid stupid and the other half of him is yelling at himself to go back and to tell Merlin that he wants him more than he’s wanted anything and that it makes him hurt in a way he never knew he could until now. It’s a blur, but all he sees is red and before he knows it he’s slmaming his fist into the crappy wall of the art block and there’s an unbearable pain in his fist but there’s also an inexplicable pain in his heart and he doesn’t stop because- because--  
“Jesus, Arthur!” Merlin’s voice is a little like dream-- sleepy sundays waking up to Merlin’s mouth on his own and he’s saying breakfast time in a voice that should be illegal-- and a little too far away. “Stop it, stop it.”

Merlin’s face is shadowed with something Arthur’s never seen before, a sort of fragile fear and Arthur tries to school his emotions back into something unaffected, like the way he’s been taught, but it-- it hurts.   
“Go away,” Arthur snarls because all he wants to say is don’t go and I love you, I love you but he can’t because it’s not right. It’s unnatural, Arthur. 

“Arthur, stop it. You prat, stop being so--” Merlin says, finally grabbing both of Arthur’s fists in his own. “Stop it.”  
“I don’t love you, I don’t love you.” Arthur says, like maybe if he says it enough it’ll be true but Merlin’s face has softened like he knows Arthur’s lying “ I don’t love you,”

Merlin leans Arthur against the wall, slicks the length of his body up against Arthur’s and grabs the injured fist with both hands. They’re a wreck, the both of them, a wreck of heaved in breaths and heartbeats that don’t match.   
“But I love you,” Merlin says, quiet before he kisses each knuckle. 

Arthur breathes in raggedly, looks into the elfin blue of Merlin’s eyes and thinks of how much he loves him. How it’s vaster than the oceans and deeper too, how he used to lie awake and just count Merlin’s heartbeat, afraid to sleep because if he did, Merlin might just slip away. He looks at Merlin’s cheekbones, thinks how they’re sharp enough to cut and how Arthur thinks that he’d still touch them even if they did because he loves Merlin in that inexplicable and consuming way that leaves him breathless and wanting and it’s unnatural, Arthur.

“It’s unnatural, Merlin.” Arthur says. “It’s unnatural the way I want to touch you all the time, the way it feels like your mouth was made for mine.”

“Because your father said so?” Merlin asks, gently. “Arthur, this is your life, not your dad’s. I love you and I think, I think you could love me too and if you do than say so or say that you could because I’m so tired. I’m tired of constantly wondering whether I mean anything to you-- it’s always been so easy for you to read me and hurt me but I can’t do the same. I can’t-- “

The kiss is sudden, but slow and Arthur’s forgotten the way Merlin tastes; of summer and a goodness he’ll never be. It’s just a brush of chewed raw lips tasting ones that are chapped and rough but perfect all the same. When Arthur opens his eyes he sees Merlin’s bright blue ones on him, cautious and afraid but also glazed over with a lust Arthur knows too well. The second time their lips meet, it’s rougher, like their trying to memorize the way each other taste by drawing blood and biting until all the pain subsides and all they feel is the way it feels to be touched and touching.  
“God, Merlin.” Arthur says, licking up kisses along the insolent curve of a pale neck he’s forgotten the taste of. Merlin’s moan is something filthy and it goes straight to Arthur’s cock and he thinks he should stop but his he’s pulling Merlin into the nearest room and Merlin’s following like he’ll follow Arthur anywhere. And he would, Merlin would.

The room’s dark, with just the light from the windows flittering in and Arthur’s vaguely aware of the shelves stocked with paint and the random art materials haphhazardly scattered across the floor but only because he’s trying to find a place where he can lay Merlin out like something precious and special and just for him. Merlin shoves away a paper-mached head of an animal Arthur can’t quite comprehend. They’re clumsy in getting they’re clothes off, their breaths heated and they’re voices aren’t exactly coherent but it’s perfect. 

It’s been three weeks. Three weeks of fantasizing, three weeks of wanting to feel Merlin around him again and to taste him in his mouth. To feel him in places he has forgotton. Maybe in a movie, they would’ve gone slow. Made heated love against the cold hard concrete until the sun had set and the room went dark around them. But it’s not a movie and Arthur’s never been patient because although it’s been three weeks of fantasizing-- Merlin spread across their dinner table because he’s better then food, Merlin in the shower where the it’s hot and the world seems far enough away, Merlin half asleep in his bed and Arthur sucking him awake with sorry lips and pleading eyes--, it’s also been three weeks of wanting and Arthur can’t wait any longer. He takes Merlin hard and rough, doesn’t stop to stretch him out with deft fingers or to push in with a sort of eased slowness. He’s a bit manic with his motions, drops a kiss to Merlin’s shoulder-- wets the salty skin there with a pink tongue-- and hikes his knee up over his shoulder before he slides in all too quickly but perfect all the same. Merlin’s a sight, jaw slack with bright red lips and blue eyes glazed over with something Arthur remembers but is not too familiar with. They rock into completion with Merlin wrapped tightly around Arthur and Arthur whispering empty words like ‘ I missed you,’ and ‘ I love you,’ ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘I’m sorry.’

Afterwards, they catch their breath while splayed across the concrete floor. Merlin’s tracing his finger down Arthur’s chest, savoring the way it feels. There’s 15 minutes of bliss, where Merlin gets to do this, where he gets to pretend once more that they’re okay. 15 minutes before he feels the familiar stiffening of a curved body.  
“Merlin,” Arthur starts and Merlin sighs, sits up.   
“I know,” He says, quiet, while pulling on discarded clothes. “I know.”  
Arthur looks at Merlin from we It’s weird, having Merlin touch him, after so many night of dreaming it up Merlin fingers between his, Merlin’s hand tucked away at the spot where the back of his neck meets his head, Merlin everywhere. Arthur turns back and looks at Merlin, forces his eyes away from the dark shade of dark red.   
“Arthur, I’m sorry.” Merlin starts, teeth gnawing a deep red. “I’m sorry I’m being so shit about this, yeah? We were good mates and I mean, I should’ve listened, never get involve with someone you’ve seen in their nappies, aye? I miss us and, I mean, If I can’t-”

Merlin chokes, a bubble trapped in his throat and he thinks to himself that this feels a little like drowning. Arthur’s looking at him in this intent way and Merlin wants to look away but his eyes are too blue, too captivating and Merlin finds he can’t. He loses himself for amount, lost in Arthur’s eyes and his mind begins to play back moments before: Arthur in the morning, sleep deprived and fucked out, eyes half-lidded as Merlin kisses him awake, that one time Arthur found Merlin in his art studio, drinking himself into a stupor, and how he slicked himself against Merlin until he was sober, Arthur in the kitchen, pants hung low and-- He pulls himself out of it. Merlin’s not an idiot, he knows he shouldn’t be the first one apologizing because after all it was Arthur who had just shoved them up against the wall, it is Arthur who’s still acting like he still loves Merlin even though Merlin knows better now. He does. I do.

“If I can’t love you as a lover,” Merlin says, moving his face alarmingly close to Arthur’s. “Then I’ll love you as a friend.”  
Merlin kisses Arthur, soft as anything and chaste, like Arthur’s something sacrad. It’s just press of the lips and Arthur feels himself falling apart because he knows, he knows this is it. Merlin’s at terms with this, he’s giving up and it makes Arthur’s chest burn in this way he’s never felt before. Makes Arthur feel like the same way he did when he was 8 and his dad had looked at him with this dark sort of disgust before he said “It’s your fault, it’s your fault she’s gone,” with a voice that tasted of whisky and mangled disgust.  
“God M,” Arthur murmurs, and then he does something he hasn’t ever done in front of Merlin, or anyone for at least 6 years. He cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also,
> 
> feel free to leave negative comments about how this did not flow, AT ALL. It was rush and really, I was just excited to start writing for it again.
> 
> The 'If i cant love you as a lover, then i'll love you as a friend,' is shamelessly stolen from a La Dispute song.


End file.
